Instinct
by emeraldsandopals
Summary: Fed up with the Kratt brothers' interference, Gourmand decides to exploit a newly-discovered weakness of the Creature Power Suits. Alternate version of "Opossum in My Pocket."
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Watching the episode will provide a bit of context for a few things that are mentioned, but it shouldn't be necessary to understanding the story. Many thanks to deepfathom for her invaluable help and support!**

* * *

Martin awoke in an unfamiliar area of the cypress swamp, wondering what he was doing on the ground - and why it seemed to be so hard to get up. One minute, he'd been trying to save a baby opossum from becoming Gourmand's late-night snack, and the next…

He stiffened in horror, reaching instinctively for the pouch on his Creature Power Suit where he'd placed the tiny creature, even though a part of him already knew what he would find. Unexpected resistance stopped him halfway there, and he looked down at his hands in confusion, eyes widening at the sight of the rope binding his wrists together. A glance at his ankles showed them to be tied in a similar fashion, and his Creature Pod seemed to be missing.

Struggling to a sitting position, he was not particularly surprised when the higher vantage point brought the counters and appliances of Gourmand's mobile kitchen into view, although the sight of Chris's missing backpack, resting against a tree, did elicit a raised eyebrow and a humorless smile. So this was where it had disappeared to. He should have known.

But… how had he gotten here? He frowned, remembering the unpleasant fluttering in his heart, the sudden chill coursing through his body, the unaccountable feeling of panic as Gourmand loomed threateningly over him, and then… _nothing_, as though someone had suddenly flipped a switch. It was unnerving.

The more pressing question, however, was whether Jillybean was all right. Martin anxiously sniffed the air around him, taking heart when the enhanced senses of the opossum power disc picked up nothing beyond the usual smells of the swamp and a few herbs and vegetables. Gourmand didn't appear to have started cooking anything yet, which meant that the little marsupial was safe for the moment.

He breathed a sigh of relief, a small smile making its way across his face. Even after all this time, and countless transformations, Aviva's Creature Power Suit technology still amazed him, using a combination of creature knowledge, DNA, and her own exceptional programming skills to give two fairly ordinary humans the abilities of any animal on Earth. It wasn't limited to their external features, either - she'd somehow also managed to incorporate their senses and even their instincts. Although the latter could be considered a mixed blessing. Martin's smile quirked a little as he remembered Chris's uncontrollable urge to bury acorns while under the influence of gray squirrel powers, or his own response to a particular fishing lure the first time he'd used his bass power disc.

The smile vanished abruptly as the realization hit, and if he could have clapped himself on the forehead, he would have. Why had he not seen it earlier? Aviva had programmed their newest discs with all of the instincts of the opossum, and what was more well-known than their habit of "playing dead" when threatened? The behavior had long been considered to be an act, but further research had revealed that it was actually an innate physical response to danger, the body going into a dormant state to protect itself.

Martin closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly furious with himself. He knew that his blacking out had been involuntary, a product of the opossum instincts, but he still felt that he should have been strong enough to fight it, especially with an innocent creature depending on him. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had to find Jillybean and get her out of there before it was too late.

The first part of that proposition turned out to be easy. A few minutes later, Gourmand sauntered into the kitchen, carrying an armful of produce, which he deposited on the counter before reaching up and pulling Jillybean out of his breast pocket. Setting the small opossum down inside a large mixing bowl, he turned aside and began rummaging through his collection of pots and pans while she scrabbled frantically against the sides of her prison.

"Jillybean!" Martin sat up straighter, struggling against the ropes in a futile effort to reach the terrified creature.

The chef turned toward him with a smirk. "Well, well. Look who decided to join the party."

Martin narrowed his eyes. "Give her back, Gourmand. She's just a baby - she belongs with her family! You can't cook her!"

"Reeeally?" drawled the chef. "Because I fail to see how _you_ are going to stop me." He took a few steps toward Martin, his mocking tone suddenly replaced by a much more threatening one. "And I've got news for you, Blue Berry. I am sick and tired of you and Green Grape always stealin' my ingredients! You two have been the eggshells in my omelet for far too long. So when _you_ decided to take a little nap, _I_ decided to do something about it, once and for all." He leaned closer. "Your little green brother is sure to come lookin' for you. And when he does…"

"Don't you touch him!" Martin struggled harder, as though his rapidly mounting anger could somehow give him the strength to burst through the ropes.

Gourmand gave a derisive snort. "You know, I liked you better when you were asleep. For the last time, I will do whatever I please, and there is nothing you can do to stop me." He glanced pointedly at the knotted cords, a hint of malice now evident in his smile. "Especially while you're trussed up like a Thanksgivin' turkey. Now you hush, or I'll feed you to the gators!"

Martin subsided, although one of his hands remained clenched in a fist. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, knowing that he'd need to keep a cool head if he was going to figure out a way out of here. And he _was_ going to get out of here, make no mistake. Even aside from the need to rescue Jillybean, there was no way he was going to sit around and allow Gourmand to use him as bait for his younger brother. He made a show of slumping dejectedly into his corner, but his blue eyes remained watchful, taking in his surroundings while he waited for an opportunity.

Apparently pleased at having successfully intimidated his adversary, Gourmand turned his attention to his work, humming a little tune under his breath as he chopped vegetables and added them to the sauce that was now simmering on the stove. Giving his concoction a stir, he dipped up a spoonful and brought it to his lips for a taste, but set it down again almost immediately with a dissatisfied grunt. "Hmm. Still needs a little somethin'." He began to pace around the kitchen, considering and rejecting various possibilities. "Eggplant… ehh, too bland. Spinach? Nah, too stringy." He stopped suddenly, thrusting a finger into the air. "Mushrooms! Some savory swamp mushrooms will give this dish the _perfect_ flavor! I'll just go out and collect a few, and soon I will finally be enjoyin' my tasty Opossum Pocket!" Grabbing a basket, he started off toward the swamp, but he doubled back a moment later to pluck Jillybean from her bowl. "Better take you with me," he muttered, shoving the small marsupial into his pocket. "Just in case _someone_ starts gettin' any ideas about runnin' off with you again!"

Martin scowled, the picture of frustration, but as soon as the chef was out of sight, a devious gleam crept into his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Gourmand leaving him alone in the kitchen had been almost too much to hope for, and though his having taken Jillybean with him added a layer of difficulty to the final stage of his plan, Martin was confident that with a few adjustments he'd be able to steal her back and get the two of them out of there.

First things first, however. Unable to stand, he scooted awkwardly over to the area where Gourmand had been working, then rose as high as he could on his knees, reaching up to the countertop with the one appendage that the chef had overlooked.

Success! Martin suppressed a crow of triumph as his tail curled around the handle of the knife Gourmand had left behind. Actually using it to cut the ropes around his wrists proved to be a bit more of a challenge, and he nicked himself several times in the process, but finally the cords gave way. Passing the knife from his tail to his hand, he quickly freed his ankles as well, then got a little unsteadily to his feet and placed the utensil back on the counter where he'd found it. Once his cramped leg muscles had reawakened, he ventured a short distance into the swamp, taking in the scent of the vegetation around him. Stopping in front of a patch of flowering plants, he broke off a few sprigs - using his tail purely for the fun of it this time - and tucked them into his pouch, then clambered nimbly up a tree whose branches hung over the kitchen. Now all he had to do was wait.

It didn't take long. Gourmand could sniff out ingredients almost as fast as a crocodile could snap up a fish, and soon Martin heard him stomping back through the underbrush.

"Ugh! Quit squirmin', you little varmint!" Gourmand pulled a wriggling Jillybean from his pocket with an air of mingled disgust and relief, and deposited her back in the bowl. "I don't know how your momma can stand it, carryin' you around all day." He gave an annoyed-sounding huff, but it was quickly followed by a low chuckle. "But the feisty ones _do_ have the most flavor." Rubbing his hands in anticipation, he turned back to his cutting board and began to slice up the mushrooms he'd found.

Quick as a flash, Martin lowered himself from the branch and snatched up the little opossum, curling back up into the tree as soon as he had her in his grasp. Nestling her securely inside his pouch, he crept out onto an adjacent limb, and from there began cautiously making his way through the treetops. He knew it was only a matter of time before Gourmand noticed either his absence or Jillybean's, and he hoped that he'd be able to put enough distance between them before that happened.

All too soon, however, he heard a yell of rage echoing through the trees, and he knew that the game was up. "Plan B," he whispered to Jillybean, lifting her gently from the pouch and depositing her into a hollow in the tree. He tucked the flowers in around her, gave her an affectionate skritch between the ears, and then took off in the opposite direction as fast as he could go.

Arriving at a clearing of sorts some time later, he paused to catch his breath, and to figure out his next move. The trees grew farther apart here, and short of going back the way he had come, there was no easy path through the branches. Hearing no sounds of pursuit, he dared to hope that he might have shaken Gourmand for good. Still, he was reluctant to return to ground level unless he had to; after all, that was where the chef had surprised him earlier in the evening, and he had no desire to repeat that experience.

A quick glance around revealed a more heavily wooded area a little to his right, and he decided to head in that direction to avoid being out in the open for too long. Getting over there would be a bit of a stretch - there were only a couple of branches bridging the gap between the nearest clump of trees and the one where he was currently perched - but the grasping abilities of the opossum feet and tail should enable him to make it all right. Climbing out to the end of the first branch, he cautiously reached for the next one.

Without warning, a ball of sticky dough shot past his head, splattering onto the trunk of a tree some distance behind him. He looked down to see Gourmand standing on the other side of the clearing, brandishing his dough gun and visibly shaking with anger. Martin ducked as another dough ball came hurtling toward him, then made a lunge for the outstretched branch. If he could just make it to the denser part of the swamp, maybe he could lose the chef again - if not entirely, then at least long enough to switch to a creature power that was better suited for speed.

The next shot hit him squarely in the chest, deactivating his suit in a flash of light. Martin felt the tips of his fingers brush the target branch, but before he could grab hold of it, the support from his legs and tail disappeared and he was falling, tumbling out of control toward the ground below. Then everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where in the creature world could Martin have gotten to?" Chris wondered as he and Aviva hurried through the trees. Having discovered the troubling weakness of the opossum powers, he knew that he needed to warn his brother, but Martin hadn't answered his Creature Pod, and their search, thus far, had yielded no trace of him. "We must have covered half the swamp by now - he's gotta be around here some-"

He broke off, startled, as something landed on his head. Skidding to a stop, he reached up to retrieve the small object, staring at it for a moment in some confusion. It was a flower, a cluster of tiny pink blossoms atop a long, flexible stem, with pointed leaves all along its length.

Aviva giggled. "Aw, you should have left it on. It was cute!"

Chris rolled his eyes and tossed it in her direction, looking speculatively up at the tree from which it seemed to have fallen. "You wear it. I'm going up to investigate - it could be a clue! Or even a brand-new mystery: The Case of the Falling Flower!"

"Lots of trees have flowers, Chris," Aviva pointed out. "And when they've been pollinated and started forming seeds or fruit, they fall. I don't see what the big mystery is."

"But that flower didn't come from this tree - or any tree at all! Look at the stem, and the way the leaves grow. This is definitely a terrestrial plant. And d'you see how it's broken off at the bottom? Someone, or something, picked it and put it up in that tree. And I'm going to find out why." A decisive nod, and he was off, expertly scaling the trunk with the help of the opossum's climbing powers.

Settling herself against the trunk of another tree to wait, Aviva tucked the flower behind her ear, but a moment later, she removed it with a slight grimace. "I don't think I'm going to wear this after all," she called up to Chris. "It smells weird, like… mothballs or something."

"But it looked so _cuuute_," Chris teased her. Aviva gave him a deadpan look. "Watch it," she warned. But her narrowed eyes flew open a moment later as she caught sight of another rosy sprig a short distance above him. "Chris, look! Another flower!"

Chris could see it now, too, hanging halfway out of a fist-sized hollow in the tree. Scrambling up to the hole and peering in, he let out a gasp of surprise and relief. "Jillybean! You're safe!" Reaching into the cavity, he carefully pulled her out, along with a few more of the odd-smelling flowers, which he allowed to fall to the ground before securing her in his pouch and making his way down out of the tree.

"Aww," Aviva cooed, reaching out to pet the little opossum. "Hi, sweetie! I'm so glad we found you!" She looked up at Chris, slightly puzzled. "But I still don't understand where the flowers came from. Is that another opossum behavior?"

Chris frowned. "Not that I know of…" He looked thoughtfully back at the flower that Aviva had discarded, then picked it up and gave it an experimental sniff, his expression brightening as he recognized the aroma. "Camphor weed! Of course! Martin must have put it in there with her so Gourmand couldn't smell her out! Mystery solved!"

"But… where _is_ Martin?" Aviva asked hesitantly.

Chris's triumphant smile faded abruptly. "I don't know." Trying to ignore the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, he reached for his Creature Pod and rang his brother's device again. No answer.

He turned to Aviva, forcing a weak laugh. "He, uh… he's probably just…" He trailed off, the attempt sounding hollow even to his own ears. There were any number of perfectly innocent reasons why Martin might not be answering his Creature Pod, and Chris did have to admit to a tendency to worry too much on occasion. But this feeling was not one he could rationalize or explain away. Something was wrong. He was sure of it.

Chris looked down at the small opossum still nestled in his pouch, the impression growing stronger. Martin would never have left Jillybean alone unless he had to. Unless…he didn't think he could protect her any longer.

With slightly trembling hands, Chris gently extricated the little marsupial and passed her to his crewmate. "Aviva, you take Jillybean back to her mom. I've gotta go find Martin." He gazed out at the surrounding cypress trees for a moment, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "And I've got a pretty good idea of where to look."

* * *

Chris approached the kitchen cautiously, keeping back among the trees where he hoped he wouldn't be spotted. His vision was somewhat limited by the opossum powers, but he could still make out Gourmand's bulky figure standing in front of one of the counters. From the sound of it, he was slicing up some kind of vegetable. Chris crept closer, slipping behind a clump of bushes near the corner of the kitchen. He'd been able to observe Gourmand undetected from that spot earlier in the evening; maybe it would work a second t-

"Well, hello, Green Grape." The booming voice made him jump. Chris straightened up, frustrated at having been discovered, but determined not to show any weakness. "Gourmand," he spat.

The chef met his glare with a knowing smile. "Lookin' for someone?"

He stepped aside, still smirking, and Chris felt his insides grow cold as he caught sight of his brother on the ground behind him, bound hand and foot, and unconscious.

"Martin!" Chris took an involuntary step toward his brother. "Wh- what did you do to him?"

"He took a little tumble while absconding with my appetizer." The chef's face darkened. "He won't be doin' that again. You Kratt croutons have ruined one of my recipes for the last time!"

Dismissing the last part of that speech as more of the chef's usual bluster, Chris turned his anxious gaze back to his sibling. He couldn't tell much from this distance, but he was relieved to see that Martin at least seemed to be breathing evenly. However, his examination also revealed traces of dough on the front of his brother's suit, near the activation button, and Chris felt his fingers curling themselves into a fist. He was beginning to get a fairly clear picture of just how that "little tumble" had come about, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Let him go," he growled.

"Why, certainly!" Gourmand responded, with a broad smile. His tone was cheerful, almost jovial, and Chris stared at him, momentarily thrown off his balance. Gourmand's smile widened. "Just as soon as you promise to stop interferin' with my culinary genius."

Now they were back in familiar territory. The younger Kratt shook his head, arms folded tightly across his chest. "Forget it, Gourmand. I'm - _We're_ - not letting you cook endangered animals!"

"Were you not listenin'?" Gourmand suddenly slammed his hands down on the countertop. "I am _done _takin' orders from you two! I am _done_ seein' all my talent go to waste because of a couple of animal lovers!" He leaned toward Chris for a moment, breathing heavily, then seemed to regain some of his composure. "Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way." Twirling the vegetable knife casually between his fingers, the chef glanced over his shoulder toward where Martin still lay on the ground. "Maybe I should just take care of this one right now. He's far more trouble than he's worth."


	3. Chapter 3

Martin had been drifting closer to consciousness, dimly aware now of the sound of voices nearby, but the cold of sharpened steel against his throat jolted him fully awake in an instant. He froze, eyes still closed, expecting the blade to slice into his skin at any moment.

Instead, he heard his brother's voice, laced with panic. "No! Don't, _please!_" Chris drew in a ragged breath, a note of surrender creeping into his tone. "I… I'll do whatever you want."

The pause that followed seemed interminable. Finally, the knife was withdrawn, and Martin could sense Gourmand straightening up beside him, turning back toward his brother.

"That's better." There was a clatter as the chef placed the knife back on the counter. "Now, why don't you come on over here, and we'll have a nice little chat. See if we can't come to some kind of…arrangement."

"Chris, no!" Martin wanted to shout, but something held him back. He was fairly certain that his brother was walking into a trap, but what it was, he didn't know, and he was afraid that a simple warning might not be enough. If he called out to Chris now, Gourmand might scrap his plan altogether and just attack the younger Kratt outright. And there would be nothing Martin could do to protect him. Chris was quick and agile, and fairly strong for his size, but Gourmand was probably close to double his body weight, and opossum powers were not suited to any kind of combat. In fact - the thought made his heart skip a beat - there was a good chance that an assault from Gourmand would send Chris into the same kind of coma that had gotten Martin here in the first place. And if that happened…

Martin ground his teeth in frustration, trying desperately to think of some way to help his brother, some advantage he could give him. But what could he possibly do like this? He could feel the ropes, tighter this time, cutting into his wrists and ankles, and he knew that Gourmand wouldn't let his guard down again.

Not unless he believed Martin to still be unconscious.

Martin ventured a cautious peek from beneath barely opened eyelids. Chris was moving guardedly in Gourmand's direction, just fast enough to keep the chef satisfied while maintaining the greatest possible distance between them, buying himself some time to think. Martin could hear him attempting to reason with Gourmand, and the chef's impatient replies. _Good, good. Keep him talking._

Satisfied that neither of the others was looking at him, Martin opened his eyes a little wider, the better to get a feel for the situation. But a quick survey of the scene yielded nothing of note, nothing that seemed likely to help him. The kitchen looked just as it had before, the surrounding swampland constant in its strange beauty. The only difference was the two men glaring at each other across an ever-narrowing expanse of ground.

_Wait a minute._

Martin's eyes darted back to the area between Gourmand and his brother, his mind racing even as he tried to keep his face impassive. He'd had a pretty good view of that spot earlier, while waiting for Gourmand to return with Jillybean and the mushrooms, and he didn't remember seeing the layer of leaves that now covered the damp soil.

He stared intently at the mat of foliage, searching for some sign of what might be concealed underneath. Then he saw it: a thin cord trailing away from the leaves and leading up into a nearby tree. It was a snare. A few more steps, and Gourmand would have Chris exactly where he wanted him.

He had to do something. Now.

Tucking his head and arms in close to his chest, he pushed off hard from the ground and launched himself toward Gourmand. Once he was airborne, he coiled his legs inward as well, concentrating all of his force and momentum into one compact, desperate, two-hundred-pound missile.

"Stay back!" he shouted to his startled brother. "It's a trap!"

Gourmand toppled over as Martin plowed into his legs, falling heavily to the ground and rolling a short distance. He recovered quickly, however, and before Martin could react, the chef was on top of him, grabbing for his neck with both hands.

"Why, you little -" Gourmand tightened his grip, his face contorted with fury. Struggling with all his might, Martin managed to get his feet up far enough to give the chef a hard push, but he might as well have been trying to move a brick wall. The edges of his vision began to darken and blur, and he knew that he was fighting a losing battle.

"Get away from him."

Chris's voice cut through the haze, low and threatening, with a note of intensity that Martin had never heard before. Gasping for breath as Gourmand finally released him, Martin looked up to see his brother standing over them with the knife clenched in his fist, the tip of the blade digging just slightly into the chef's broad back.

Gourmand's normally ruddy face turned pale. "N-now look, Green Grape," he stammered. "I never meant -"

"Save it." Chris cut him off unceremoniously, leaning past him to get a better look at his brother. "Martin, are you all right?"

Martin nodded, too focused on getting air back into his lungs to make any more of a reply. Chris studied him for a moment, his brown eyes still filled with concern, but then gave an answering nod, apparently satisfied, and addressed Gourmand again.

"You were right, Gourmand. This is the last time we'll be stopping you from cooking a wild animal, because you won't be free to try it again for a long, long time." Chris took a deep breath. "Now, I want you to stand up, very slowly, and we're going to walk over to…" He glanced around, his lips twisting in a grim little smile as he caught sight of the tripwire. "…to this little surprise that you had set up for me. Then we'll figure out what to do with you."

Gourmand complied, slowly beginning to straighten up, but once he was close to upright, he made a sudden lurch toward the counter. Rearing up to his full height, he whirled around and flung a handful of pepper directly into Chris's face.

The younger Kratt stumbled back, coughing and choking, as the chef made a dash for his jeep. A press of a button, and the entire kitchen began to fold in on itself, retracting into a compartment at the rear of the vehicle. Slamming the lid, Gourmand jumped into the driver's seat and was gone in a cloud of exhaust.

Chris stared after him through streaming eyes, his knuckles whitening around the knife still clutched in his fist, his muscles tensed as though about to give chase. After a long moment, he sighed, letting his hand fall to his side, then turned on his heel and hurried back to his brother. Martin had managed to get himself more or less upright by this time, and he now gratefully extended his hands so that Chris could cut the ropes.

Kneeling beside him, the younger Kratt stiffened at the sight of the dried blood on his wrists, his jaw tightening once again. "Did he -"

"No, no," Martin assured him quickly. "That was me." He gave a sheepish laugh. "Still working on the old eye-tail coordination."

Chris relaxed a bit, beginning to saw through the cords, but he seemed distracted, and when the ropes finally fell away, he kept his gaze lowered, fiddling with the handle of the knife. "Martin," he began, then hesitated. "I… I'm sorry."

Martin blinked, not quite sure he'd heard him correctly. "Sorry?"

Chris nodded, his eyes flicking in the direction Gourmand had gone. "I let him get away. After he - after he tried to -" He broke off, shuddering.

Withholding a shiver of his own, Martin put a hand on his brother's shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. "Chris, you saved my life twice. I'd call that a pretty good night's work."

He neither expected nor received an immediate reply. Instead, he simply waited, keeping his hand where it was for the moment, and when Chris finally looked up, he gave him a warm, heartfelt smile. "Thanks for having my back."

Chris managed a small smile in return, reaching up to briefly clasp his brother's forearm. "Thanks for having mine." He paused, then raised an eyebrow, his brown eyes suddenly alight with curiosity. "How did you do that, anyway? You went from out cold to human cannonball in about half a second! I've never seen anything like it!"

"I'd actually been awake for a while," Martin admitted. "Ever since -" He couldn't quite bring himself to say the next words, his mind recoiling from the memory of just what had brought him around. "Uh… for a while," he repeated. "I was just trying to come up with _some _kind of plan, and I figured I'd have more options if Gourmand thought I was still out."

A slow smile spread across Chris's face. "So you were playing possum."

Martin began to laugh. "Yeah, I guess I was."

He gasped suddenly as a second realization hit him. "Oh, no! Jillybean!" He scrambled to his feet, forgetful of everything else for the moment. "C'mon! We've gotta - whoa…" His voice trailed off as the swamp began to spin, the ground tilting sharply beneath him.

"Martin, wait!" Chris had jumped up when his brother did, and he threw out an arm to steady him as his knees began to buckle. "Easy there, bro," he cautioned. "It's all right. We found her." He gave a short, affectionate laugh, pulling his sibling gently by the arm. "Here. You sit tight, and I'll call the crew and have them come and get us." Another chuckle, this one sounding just the tiniest bit forced. "You've had… kind of a long night."

"You found her?" Martin echoed, feeling a little foolish - but no less relieved - as he allowed Chris to tug him back down to the ground.

"Safe and sound," Chris confirmed. "Nice hiding spot, by the way! Aviva took her to find her mom, so by now she should be back where she belongs: living free -"

"And in the pouch!" Martin finished. He gave Chris an impish smile, some of his characteristic energy beginning to return. "And we found your backpack, so now there's just one more thing that we've gotta do."

Chris shot him a puzzled look over the screen of his Creature Pod. "What's that?"

The smile broadened into a grin. "Well… we never did go on that ice cream run."


End file.
